Demons Like Us
by Lady Bee
Summary: If my father only knew the kind of creatures we've became. Wolves in the very sense of the word. Wild beasts, ferocious creatures, driven by blood lust and anger. He kisses me live a wolf, all teeth and fury; he loves me like a wolf, howling to the moon while scratching my skin.


There's some sort of comfort in the sound of the wind howling outside while I feel the warmth of the fire crackling in the fireplace. It reminds me of how much I should be grateful for it, or at least this is what I'm told daily. Winter is upon us, and so is war, but within this walls there's food, even though it's not as bountiful as it once was, and there are other facilities that I've missed dearly for almost five years now.

War is another reality and this time no one seems to understand how to deal with it. I see Jon reclined over maps and battle plans, but I doubt that he knows what he's doing, especially with the Dragons. I wonder how long until he decides that he's not willing to take orders, now that he set his claim on Winterfell.

He is no longer the boy from my childhood, or even the brother that I loved so much. He became something else. Something darker and dangerous that spoke very eloquently to my own sinful soul. We share vengeance and violence like bread and wine, eating it from each other's hands. The boy that I knew was kind and honorable, eager to please our father and lord. This man that he became wears his hate, rage and will like an armor. He doesn't care for refinement or rank. He has no king or queen to serve and got used to be his own lord and master.

I've been near dangerous men before. I've fought for survival long enough to know that my life depends on him now. Although I love Jon and trust him well enough, he scares me more often than not. It's not that I can't kill him if needed be. What scares me the most is that…Even if I had to kill him to save my own life, I would never do so.

Maybe that is the reason why I like the sound of the winter winds and the fire. They are familiar, they never change. I can't say the same about people.

I heard Ghost's steps and heavy breath before he could enter the parlor. The beast is of the size of horse now, and whenever he tries to sleep near my feet, it always becomes an unpractical arrangement. I petted his ears before he could accommodate his massive figure in the corner of the room. Jon's steps didn't make me wait long, as usual.

He sat on his usual chair near the fireplace, from where I could observe his profile carefully against the light. How it comes that it took me a lifetime to see that his eyes are not really grey, like mine, but from an unusual shade of purple? I suppose that's what they call denial.

Jon is not particularly adept of fine cloths or other vanities. He is quite simple in his tastes, but every now and then he chose to display his colors and coat of arms. A necessity for anyone with lands to rule; of even to remember his enemies and allies that he is no longer the Black Bastard. His Stark's looks helps only so much. Most of his claim is sustained by fear and an unlikely alliance, none of them approved by the Dragons.

I often imagine that Daenerys would have tried to contain his growing power and support by marrying him, like Targaryens usually do. Unfortunately for her, Jon doesn't enjoy the idea of marrying his own aunt, nor is he adept of polygamy. He gave his word in a godswood, before the old gods and new, he would never change his mind about it.

"You are quiet." His voice broke the silence like a hammer against glass. Not that he is the most eloquent being in this frozen world, but he enjoys noise. He likes to hear all of the small sounds of a full castle, especially now. It reminds him that he is alive.

"I have nothing to say." I answered while looking into the fire. "I suppose the hunt was a good one."

"A stag and a wild boar. Much more than I expected." He was pleased with that and so was I. That meant food supplies and meat was always welcome in winter.

"You've killed them yourself?" I asked carelessly. The grin in his face was a cruel one.

"It took me almost a whole day, but yes…Two perfect arrows." He answered out of sheer satisfaction. "The stag was huge. A male, with twelve points. I should have his head for a trophy." I shivered before he could set his eyes on me for the first time that night. I knew the meaning behind his words all too well.

"I've never took you by someone with such a need for reassurance. I would hate to have such a trophy upon these walls. Let Winterfell be what it is. Our safe and warm refuge." I said, hoping that he would not get my words wrong.

Once we've been as close as twins and completed each other's sentences. He called me little sister then and I loved him with the sweetness of summer wine. That was before loss, war and winter. Now our souls are stained and corrupted; making love a vile and tricky thing.

"Remind you of your lover, would it?" His voice asked cynically while he observed me with the eyes of a maester.

"Perhaps I should employ a dozen of red head wenches. Would it remind you of the wife that you've killed?" My answer hit him like a well-aimed arrow. He smiled at me with bitter kindness. At least he knows me to well to expect me to be a good sweet lady. I'm his mate after all, as cruel and fierce as him.

He rose from his seat and walked the short distance between us. The sound of his boots hitting the cold stone floor echoed in the room. Jon touched my face with his burned fingers, drawing the line of my jaw and neck, making me shiver. His touch is cold like death itself, despite the fact that he is half a Dragon. Jon kissed the top of my head and mussed my hair like he usually does when we are alone and he is feeling more of his old self.

"I've never had another wife, only you, my dark one." He whispered. It was a blunt lie, but I understood the meaning behind it. Truth be told, the wilding had been a duty in order to obtain information and survive among the freefolk. Not that Jon hadn't enjoyed every single bit of it, but he just like to say that it wasn't a marriage than, just a folly.

"Stop talking about the past then. It will do you no good." I replied while trying to not feel uncomfortable with his hand resting at my neck. "I have no lover, although I recall a delicate conversation in the glass garden."

"You should know me better, my lady." His fingers tightened a bit, but hardly enough to threaten anyone with strangulation. He was feeling my pulse at most, expecting to sense any alteration that might reveal my unfaithful behavior.

"I wonder why you treat me like this." I replied calmly.

"Like what, love?" He asked and I almost believed his kindness.

"Like I'm your possession." My voice faded a bit. I could sense the smile forming in his face even when I couldn't see him.

"Maybe I'm greedy." He whispered while caressing my face. "Maybe Death made me this way. Even she rejects me, but now I refuse to be denied by anyone, even you. I gave you back Winterfell. I gave you steel and freedom to fight by my side like you wanted. I shared vengeance with you and I will do much more if you keep this one thing holly. Do not deny me and I'll be yours to command."

Jon offered me his hand in a silent invitation. I accepted it without any other option to choose. He made me a similar promise in the godswood almost a year earlier. He was dressed in black that day, exactly as he always is, but his touch had been kinder and his face soft when he took me by the hand and made me his bride.

I see the way everyone looks at him whenever he walks around the land. They whisper his name with fear and devotion, while that Red Woman gravitates around him telling stories of a savior and a conqueror of Death as if Jon was some sort of hero, when the small folk would sooner see him as a monster. "The Great Other" some called him, but most of them choose a much more intimidating alias… "The Deathless".

We walked thru the dark hallways like phantoms. We know every stone and every corner by heart and nothing of it reminds me of my childhood home. Winterfell is no longer a place for laughs and warmth. We've made of this old castle our private fortress of panic and cruelty.

If my father only knew the kind of creatures we've became. Wolves in the very sense of the word. Wild beasts, ferocious creatures, driven by blood lust and anger. Jon calls me "my she-wolf" in the black of night, when his hands are eager for flesh and his mouth falls harshly over mine. He kisses me live a wolf, all teeth and fury; he loves me like a wolf, howling to the moon while scratching my skin.

The Jon Snow of my childhood had dreamt of glory and heroism. He thought he might find those things in the Wall, but the only thing he found in that godforsaken place was death. I've heard the rumors of his short time as Lord Commander and how he was betrayed by his men. He tried to do the right thing, accordingly to the fat maester. He had been honorable, he saved lives and he tried to protect the realm of men only to lose himself in the process.

I don't know what Jon might have found on the other side. When we were reunited he had already became The Deathless and everyone whispered that he have lost half of his soul when he came back from the dead.

I guess that we still have that in common after all. No one can hope to serve the One-Of-Many Faces and still keep his soul intact. After so many losses, I started to believe that revenge was the only thing that still had to keep me alive, until I found Jon.

He dressed me in steel and gave me a purpose. Vengeance could be shared after all, and what a sweet thing it was to see the King's Road covered with the corpses of Boltons and Freys.

I follow his steps just the way I used to do in childhood. Jon made me the way I am, all savagery and cruelty. He gave me my first taste of steel and blood, I've learned from him my first lesson in sword fighting. Our scars tell the story of two tormented souls, two outcasts that found each other amidst fire, blood and snow. Our scars have written love letters all over our skin and Jon kiss every word in my body, hoping that they will make him a bit more human.

The sound of the chamber's door opening makes something inside me grow anxious. There's some sort of expectation in the air and a bit of excitement. He takes me in, inviting me to his darkest domains.

He closes the door behind me. I can sense his eyes roaming all over my figure, while he circles me. Jon had always been lean and elegant in his own way, with a handsome face that made him easy on the eyes. He evaluates me with the interest of a scholar and that annoys me to no end.

"Will you look at me the whole night?" I asked finally, making him grin in response. Jon touched my face lightly.

"I could, but I will not." He whispers with unusual kindness. "I was just wondering."

"About what?" I asked calmly.

"If there's such a thing as destiny, I wonder if I would enter your tent one way or another. If I would see the scars all over your body and kiss each one of them with devotion. If I would be amazed by how much black hair a woman can have and that you could strangle me with yours if you wished to. If there's such a thing as destiny, you were made to match each of my preferences, to settle my most unholy desires." He kissed my neck while his fingers sank in my hair and pulled it lightly. "My she-wolf, my little demon, my perfect bride."

"Fancy yourself a poet, do you?" I asked before taking his mouth into mine and savor all of his darkness and feed him my own.

"You are some sort of inspiration and fall in love with you is like having my throat cup. Just as fast and lethal. I can't even blame the poor devil, but history tends to repeat itself, don't you agree?" Jon made a pause, taking a deep breath to smell the faint essence of lavender in my skin. "He will seek vengeance over something my father did to his father. He will always try to win the lady's heart and be the fine prince he was meant to be, despite of his low birth. I can even agree that he would do much better than me at this, but…You've had always been mine in some deep and mysterious way. You are my mate and mine alone."

"Greedy vile thing that you've become." I muttered and Jon grabbed my breasts mercilessly at the slightest provocation, making me moan.

"All for you. Just for you." He spitted every word at my face as if they were some sort of curse. Now I am to blame for this twisted soul of his when I've done nothing.

He was the one to enter my tent after a bloody battle without being announced. He was the one covered by the night cloak. Jon was the one to see me half naked, with a body full of pale scars and fresh cuts. He never asked permission to touch me the way he did. He licked my wounds and took me to bed just as fast as he cut any throat.

Maybe he did what he did to have Winterfell with a bit of maiden's blood instead of a blood bath. It would be the easiest way to force Sansa's hand at this and it worked just fine. Not my choice, never my choice. Jon imposed the path and the rhythm to me all along, but I've found my own pleasure at this. If not in his bed at least by his side in a battle field.

Jon thorne my dress bodice apart with his bare hands, just like he have done countless times before. I suppose it's some kind of reassurance, his own brutal way to say over and over again that I belong to him.

Do I belong to him? I often wonder if I've been tamed by my fear of loneliness and got trapped within his harsh hands. Sansa says that it's the other way around. She thinks that Jon had always given me an immeasurable amount of power over himself just for the sake of making me happy, but I doubt it. If he wished to make me happy, he would smile at me and call me sweetly as he did when we were young and pure. If he wished to make me happy, he would mess my hair and laugh with me instead of tearing my clothes apart and sink himself between my legs.

I do miss that boy. That lovely and lonely boy that he was. The Jon Snow that I saved in my heart among my favorite memories and dreams. I loved him, but I suppose that love is not unchangeable by any means and as I grew violent, wild and bloody, my love for him grew just the same. Now I taste his blood in my mouth whenever my caresses get to eager and he grins at me with delight. He drags his teeth thru my heart surface and bites it lightly, just remembering me that we belong together for wolves are meant to love wolves alone.

I was naked under his body in no time at all. His breath heavy against the skin of my neck, making me shiver while his touches got bolder and more urgent. I could feel his erection pressed against my stomach, throbbing with need. His mouth hungrily savoring my breasts in a painful delight. Jon has his own peculiarities about intimacy. Despite his twisted self he does it as if he truly believes that it has anything to do with love and not domination. He tries to convince me of these things. Sometimes I struggle to not to.

I'm overwhelmed by his demands and expectations. It's always there. In the way he kisses me, in the way we fuck, in the way he looks at me when I'm pretending to be asleep. He needs to hear it. He needs to know that I won't deny him, that I won't abandon him like his own fortune and death have. If I give him that much, those three words Jon crave so fiercely for, I'll be doomed for good.

He never expected me to betray him. He never expected me to enjoy that one particular liberty that he gave me. Jon lies to me often, especially about certain matters.

He says that he doesn't care that I've kissed someone else…But he does.

He says that there are no rules between us…But there are.

He says that he's fine…But he is not.

He says that I could never break his heart…But I did and he will never forgive me for this.

I feel him invading me with a swift movement, reaching deep and carelessly. I scratch his back while I try to accommodate him between my legs. It hurts differently every time, mostly because I look inside his eyes and I want to see my Jon, the one that I left behind the day I went to King's Landing. And he looks at me, desperate for not being able to be that boy again and having me for his mate.

He loves me and that scares me more than any ghost ever could. I love him, or at least I think that I do, but I don't know if I love a memory or the man in my arms. I wish to believe that one day there will be spring again, and there will be peace and tranquility. I wish to believe that I'll live to see this day and that Jon will be warm and gentle again. Maybe then will be able to build ourselves a new life, instead of grabbing each other's because we are the only thing left from our youthful happiness.

We only want to forget the things we've seen and done. We only want to live again, instead of being Deathless.

I barely notice when he spill his seed inside me. I'm taken by my own chaotic pleasure when it happens and I can only notice when Jon starts to soften inside me. My breath is heavy and my body covered with his smell. Jon doesn't move for a while. He keeps his ear against my chest, listening to my heartbeat.

I caress his hair fondly. I do enjoy these tactile demonstrations of satisfaction when I can still feel his weight on top of me.

"He better be halfway to the Storm Lands right now." Jon groaned too exhausted to move.

"I refuse to keep discussing this matter with you, Jon. You better let it go." I replied almost absently. He relieved me of his weight just for a bit. Jon looked at me, with his stunning purple eyes. A shade of fear crossed his face.

"I trust that you know that I'll kill that bastard if given the chance." His voice sounded harsh and bitter. "He'll regret the day he dared to touch what belongs to me."

"I belong to myself and not to you, Jon." I replied calmly. "I kissed him because I wanted to. If I had fucked him senseless it would be by my own free will and not because he dared to take me and you wouldn't have the right to say a thing about it."

"I would have every right." He groaned.

"No, you wouldn't!" My voice sounded resolute. "The day you took me for wife you promised that there would be no rules between us, that I was free to take whomever I wanted to bed and find my pleasure in the way that better suited me, and so I did. Go ahead and do the same if you want. A red head, maybe a dozen of them, all wildlings covered in fur. You are not my possession and I have no intention of becoming yours. We have Winterfell because we are together. You have conditions to sustain your claim on the Iron Throne because I'm by your side. We walk together and freely or we don't walk at all."

He pins me against the mattress out of rage. He could kill me for the insolence or even rape me if so he wished, but instead he stares at me. I watch as something inside him crumbles. Jon is afraid. He is always afraid.

"You are mine and I am yours. That's the promise we've made, no more and no less. I won't share what is mine with the world, let alone a miserable royal bastard from Flee Bottom."

"I'm not going anywhere, am I? Care to elaborate why do you think I'm still here?" I spited every word out like curses. "I could have gone with him, as you think I would. Instead I'm here, under your naked body, smelling of you and seeing what we've made of our lives. We've grew up together, we killed together, we lost everything together. No matter where I go, you would never be out of my mind. Fuck you, or let you fuck me seems a natural consequence at this point and I even enjoy it when you are not being paranoid."

"Then why? Why him?" Jon asked in a heartbroken tone, like an abandoned child to a merciless mother.

"Because once he reminded me of Jon Snow." My words came out.

"I am Jon Snow." He replied without understanding the meaning of my confession.

"No. You are Jon Targaryen, The Deathless. You are the Lord of Winterfell and The Black Bastard, you are Rhaegar's son and the demon of the North." I whispered. "Jon Snow…My Jon Snow died at the Wall, just like Arya Stark died at King's Landing. We look the same, just a bit old and worn out, but inside we've became two devils digging for a bit of humanity in each other. We stay where we are because truly no one else is able to love the things we've became."

"No one could love a she-wolf like you." He groaned in frustration.

"And yet you do. You love me for the monster that I've become, you love me for the memory of a happy life, and you love me because you dare to have hope." I threw my head back a bit, too exhausted to keep the argument. "We are a match made in the seven hells."

"Are you disgusted for what I am, or for what I was? I hear you words and they tell me that what you hate is that I am not your brother and that I've settled myself a good deal involving you and the Stark legacy. I robbed you of your inheritance and your maiden blood, and you still have a hard time to not call me brother whenever I'm inside you. Or maybe that you are disgusted for the fact that, in spite of what I am, was, and did, you want me here." He accused not without good reason to believe every word.

"Maybe I am hopeless about everything. You've made a devil bride out of me to mirror you and now I am painfully aware that demons are capable of breeding. What will be of this world with another me and another you?" I look at the canopy for a while, wondering if he will ever understand that I won't surrender my every will in the name of a thing called love and that I barely recognize. I wish he could understand that he is not the only one afraid.

"What are you talking about?" He asked after a few seconds.

"I've wedded a demon and now I'll give birth to his offspring." My voice cracked and finally I let myself recognize that I was afraid of that fact. Afraid and lonely.

Jon looked at me with astonished eyes. I couldn't say if he was pleased with the idea, or even if he understood what I've just said. I had a vague knowledge that Jon had hoped that I would get with child in our first time, and that would put an end to any of Sansa's plans to marry me to someone else. Then I understood that Jon had hoped that I would get with child as soon as possible to reinforce his claim over Winterfell.

More than a year had passed without any signal that a child would ever come. It gave me some peace of mind for a while to know that I would never transmit to any child this vile inheritance that follows the name Stark.

I was scared and furious with the notion. I couldn't stand the idea of giving birth to a child that would be raised by beings like me and Jon, especially when I knew nothing of motherhood. Maybe Gendry was my last cry of despair and that kiss meant nothing but my futile effort to find a good reference for a child, but the reference I wanted was that of Jon Snow.

I waited for Jon's reaction, but he was still silent looking all over my naked body. I sighted, giving up any expectation of support, until I felt his warm and rough hand on my stomach. A shiver went thru my spine while he looked at me in the eyes.

"Mine." His husky voice sounded in my ears. It was not a question, nor even a doubt. I wonder if Jon would accept to raise a child even knowing that he wasn't the father, but that wasn't the case.

He kissed me hard and fiercely, devouring me like the wolf I've always took him for. Jon never took much time to recover from a lovemaking session, but this time I barely registered the fact that he was ready and buried inside of me before I could recover my breath from that kiss.

It hurt, not in the usual melancholic way. This time it was something like first times and eagerness guiding the shots. That wasn't Jon, The Deathless. He wasn't the Black Prince, or the Bastard Dragon. For a brief second I saw in his purple eyes a hint of grey, in his harsh jaw line a bit of tenderness, in his brows a gentle touch with a twist of awe.

For the first time in forever I saw my Jon Snow within his eyes.

I touched his face with devotion and kissed him every bit of tenderness that I had in me. His arms locked around my waist, keeping me in place to allow him to move freely. Our legs tangled while his hands grabbed my tights. It was a messy and confusing affair, but I couldn't care less. I could, for the first time, feel him pulsing with life inside me. Every stab made me shiver and gasp for air and I couldn't get enough of him.

"Mine." He said again, making me close my eyes to feel the pleasure in every one of my bones.

"Mine." He repeated like a pray. "Mine." My toes started to curl while he kept moving inside me, dragging me to pleasure, leaving me boneless.

I came in a convulsing fit that made everything around me went blissfully white. Jon kept moving, prolonging my pleasure for what seemed to be an eternity, until he obtained his own relieve.

We remained in silence for a while, just looking at each other, recovering our breaths. Jon's hands roamed all over my body, caressing me in a way that he had never done before. Something in him became soft, and warm and kind. It was like going back home.

He looked directly at my face, traced my lines with the tip of his fingers. Although he wasn't smiling, or talking, or doing much of anything, I could feel that he was…Happy.

"I'm your husband." He said calmly. "I don't think that I've ever chosen you. There was no choice for me, only you and your wild like self. I took you for my wife because you were the only woman who could ever deal with whatever I am. It's your talent."

"Why are you saying these things?" I asked calmly.

"Because you are under constant impression that I could have picked any woman, anywhere, but chose to take away your freedom and will out of sheer selfishness. You accuse me of being cruel, a monster even, but you are no less than me. When it comes to you, there was never a choice for me. There was only you and it is a cruel fate to love someone you grew up knowing to be forbidden. Yes, I've stolen you. I took everything from you and I'll never stop because you did just the same to me." He took a deep breath. "You kissed a man that was not me and it made me furious, then desperate because I thought I might lose the only thing that is perfect in my life."

"Give up poetry. You lack the talent for it." I said at some point, obviously uncomfortable with the unexpected sincerity.

"I understand, Arya." He answered objectively. "I can understand why you run away from me, why you avoid me whenever you can and even that I might scare you more often than not. That does not change the fact that I am your husband and I'll be a father to this child. You are both mine to keep, protect and care for. If it's a little devil what you are carrying, this child will be no less wanted and loved even if it's not my child."

"It is your child. I've never bedded him, or anyone else for that matter." I replied absently. "I might have been unfaithful for a second, but I would never seek my death in such a stupid way."

"Do you think that I would kill you?" He asked out of shock.

"You could and I would understand if you did so, but I don't think that you would. We are just the same. We have no one else and nowhere else to go. If you killed me, you would condemn yourself to loneliness, and I know that this is what you fear the most."

"What I fear the most…You know nothing, Arya." He said sourly.

"What do you fear then?" I closed my eyes and waited for his voice.

"You." He said taking me by surprise. "There's nothing scarier than to love and give yourself to someone as free spirited as you. I could lock you up in a tower and you would escape it in the first chance. I could take everything away from you. Your money, your land, your power, even your name, but you've already survived without any of these things. I've trapped you, I've seduced you, I've bargained with your life only to tie you up to me. And yet…I live in fear that one day I'll forget to lock the door and you'll fly away. I live in fear that one cannot love enough for two. If you were any other lady, you would stay because it would be the right thing to do. You are Arya Stark and you've never been a lady. You'll do what pleases you and what will be of me the day you decide that I don't please you?"

"You are afraid of the most extraordinary things." I whispered. "Truly…You want me to confess. You want to hear from my mouth the words you profess with such devotion, but if I give you this…Oh Jon. I'll be lost forever. You'll consume the last breath of Arya Stark. I gave you my hand, my sword, my loyalty and you took everything and more. I've never wanted to be a wife or a mother, now I'll be both and I don't dislike it as I thought I would. I am by your side and don't fool yourself thinking that I would stay if I didn't want to. I want to stay here. I want to share your bed and your vengeance. I want to torment you until your last breath and my last white hair. I'll do all this things, my Deathless lover, but you'll never hear those three words from my mouth. You've hidden your death, let me hide my love from your eyes."

"I can afford waiting a bit longer." He said lightly, with his mouth curving in a discreet smile. "It will be enough see you round and heavy with my child groin inside you, at least for now; but don't fool yourself, lover. One day it won't be enough and I will grow anxious and violent again, just to remember you that I'm no longer that dutiful boy."

"Marriage has its own ruthless and savage rules, I suppose. Ours will always be some kind of war for domination." I grinned at him.

"Maybe next time it will be your turn to conquer me. Maybe I'll be the one to seek love in someone else's arms." He dared me and a groan escaped my throat.

"I'll make a fine sport of killing every single red head from King's Landing to the Wall." I hissed.

"Jealous, are you?" His voice sounded deliciously presumptuous.

"No, but you are mine to torment and you've made me greedy."

I know all too well that Jon will never be satisfied with anything by half. If anything, we will consume each other with demands and jalousie, killing anyone that might interfere in this dark arrangement we call marriage. We will populate this world with demons like us and teach them nothing about kindness. We are Starks after all, as our children will be after us. And every Stark child knows that winter always come, and when it happen it's our time to rule.

Note: I know that this is kind of PWP, but I hope you enjoy. This piece was heavily inspired by the French movie La Belle et la Bête, and a book called Deathless by Catherine M. Valente. Reviews are highly appreciated.

Kisses

Bee


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